


It's in the Beat

by Lost_Elf



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - schoolmates, Bad Flirting, Coming In Pants, Crushes, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Public Hand Jobs, Public Sex, Rhys is horny, Rutting, Smut, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:35:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28878075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/pseuds/Lost_Elf
Summary: Jack jerks Rhys off at a concert in the middle of the crowd because no-one is paying attention to them anyway. That's it. It's sweet and incredibly horny.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	It's in the Beat

**Author's Note:**

> In work since early May last year. I wish I remembered what song was I listening to while writing this.

Rhys and Jack are friends, and it is normal for friends to go to a concert together. The huge crush Rhys has on his classmate is irrelevant. Or so he tells himself as he tears his gaze from Jack’s sweaty body and forces it to stay on the podium for the thousandth time. He just can't help it. Rhys had been interested in Jack from day one, but the much more popular, much more handsome boy was blind to it or didn’t care.

The music is suggestive. It makes the crowd sway, people throw their hands in the air, lovers kiss. Jack is swaying his hips next to Rhys, running a hand through sweat-soaked hair and grinning. There are beads of sweat on his forehead which shouldn’t be sexy, but it is. All Rhys can think about is his bed, Jack in it as he rides him (which is something he only knows from porn), and Jack is cursing and sweating and calling him _Kitten_ …

He is staring again, and Rhys turns his gaze to the tips of his shoes instead of the podium this time, because he doesn’t think he would be able to do that anyway. Okay, it is time to admit that this was a bad idea. Going to a concert with your friend that you have a crush on is not a sane thing. What did he expect to happen? Himself to have fun without thinking about his misery? Jack to kiss him in the middle of a love song? Stupid, stupid Rhys!

“Something wrong, Cupcake?” the older student asks. “Are you sick?”

Rhys rolls his eyes, forcing a smile. “I had _one_ beer, Jack. I’m not gonna throw up after one beer.”

“It was more piss than beer, and it was warm; I wouldn’t blame ya,” Jack retorts, winking at him cheekily. Rhys’ smile turns into an honest grin instantly.

He tries to say something, preferably something witty, but the beat of the current song changes, grows faster, more seductive, and the crowd cheers for a while, even Jack joining in with a groaned _oh yes!_ He starts swaying again, arms in the air and shirt rucked up, the muscles in his stomach flexing. Rhys is staring again, though this time even he gives in to the music and starts moving.

The band changes one song fluently into another, one of his favourites, and Rhys is finally able to relax a little. He closes his eyes and throws his head back, dancing as much as the crowd around him allows. Mouthing along the lyrics, he smiles and lets the atmosphere engulf him.

The song ends and the singer starts talking, giving the rest of the band some time to switch instruments, get water or stretch their limbs. Rhys opens his eyes to find himself under the scrutiny of Jack’s gaze. He must have turned to face him while he was dancing, and the older boy is now downright staring at him, not even bothering to be subtle about it like Rhys did.

The younger boy blushes and looks down, muttering something that probably aren’t even words, not that Jack would be able to hear over the sound of drums as the band’s most popular song begins. Suddenly, two fingers grip Rhys’ chin and bring it up, forcing him to look at Jack again, but instead of meeting his intense gaze Rhys meets closed eyes, and then their lips connect in a short kiss.

It is over before he even gets to return it, Jack pulling away and studying his shocked face. He must see something that he likes, because he smiles and brings their moths together again, this time kissing more passionately and staying there longer, giving Rhys time to react.

The younger boy drowns in it. He wraps his arms around Jack’s shoulders and holds him close, absolutely uncaring about the sweat that covers both their bodies. The drummer had been stretching their solo out forever, and the guitars finally join in just as Rhys’ lips part and Jack’s tongue touches his. The crowd explodes, screaming and cheering, some of them joining the singers and humming or clapping.

As the song finally starts, Jack pulls Rhys close by his hips, wraps his strong arms around him and grinds their bodies together, further deepening their kiss. Their hips meet, and Rhys doesn’t have nearly enough brainpower to realise why that is not a good thing.

Suddenly, Jack pulls away, a dark promising grin on his face, and Rhys’ arms fall to his sides. The past few seconds catch up with him, and his eyes widen, shame painting his cheeks deep red. Jack must have felt that he is hard – has been for maybe half an hour now, thanks to Jack being all sweaty and incredibly hot. It’s his fault, really. But Rhys can’t bring himself to say that, somehow knowing that it wouldn’t help him look less desperate.

Jack pulls him closer again, leaning in until his lips are at Rhys’ ear. “That for me, or for them?” he asks, nodding curtly towards the podium.

Rhys could probably manage a lie, but Jack is good at reading people, and there is no point trying to save his dignity. He lost that battle long ago.

“Y-you,” he stutters; blurts the next thing out before he can think about it. “You’re hot.” _Bravo, Rhys! Best pickup line ever!_ he scolds himself, trying to hide his face in the crook of Jack’s neck, but he is nudged away, so Jack can laugh him in the face.

“Cute,” the older boy comments it, chuckling. All music stops in the middle of the song, and Rhys hears the next words so clearly he cannot doubt them. “I like it,” Jack grins at him.

“You do?” the younger man asks, dumbstruck.

Jack rolls his eyes and then looks up as if pleading with the sky above them. “Yes, of course I do,” he says when he looks back down. “Why do you think I kissed you, idiot?”

“Oh,” Rhys says, slowly making the connection in his head. Yes, Jack kissed him. Jack. Kissed. Him. “Oh my God,” he gasps, some warm feeling pouring into him. And then, surprising both Jack and himself, he jumps at Jack and mashes their faces together again.

“Mmpfh!” Jack gasps into the kiss but returns it immediately, one arm wrapping around the younger boy’s shoulders and the other shamelessly gripping his ass and forcing their hips together in a slow roll. He is also hard, and whenever their bulges meet just right, he growls against Rhys’ lips, squeezing his butt.

One song bleeds into another as they make out, a quicker beat taking over, the pace of their movements matching the rhythm. The kiss turns almost aggressive, the motion of their bodies something between dancing and humping.

Rhys has to pull away to take in a few gulps of air that now seems too hot, and Jack grins at him, a little breathless himself. Jack tugs him close again soon, but this time manhandles Rhys easily until he is standing in front of him, back pressed to Jack’s chest. The younger man hums questioningly, but the sound is lost in the noise around them.

He gets an idea what Jack is on about when he tangles one hand into Rhys’ hair and tugs his head back, forcing him to lean on the older boy’s shoulder. Jack’s mouth comes to suck on his neck, and Rhys moans suddenly and loudly at the new sensation. He feels Jack chuckle against his skin and then bite lightly.

Keeping one hand in Rhys’ hair, Jack slowly trails the other one over his chest, down to his stomach, lower, until it dips into his jeans and underwear. The younger man stills and stiffens when strong fingers wrap delicately around his dick.

“J-Jack?” he stutters, keeping painfully still as he fights an internal battle. He knows he should stop this right now, but… but he is horny, okay?

Jack presses closer to him, his own hardness rubbing against the cleft of Rhys’ pants. He raises his head a little, tugs at Rhys’ earlobe before speaking. “Relax, Pumpkin. Nobody is paying attention, and we aren’t the only ones doing this.”

As if reading the younger boy’s mind, he knows exactly what the problem is, but Rhys won’t be placated so easily. He looks to the right where two girls about their age sing along the song, taking a video with their phones, unaware of the scandalous action going on right next to them.

Looking to his left, Rhys sees a pair who are probably in their early thirties, holding hands and kissing ever so often, their attention always on each other or on the podium. The crowd is so dense he cannot see anyone else, so no one else can see them… Meaning nobody will notice.

“It’s wrong,” he says, trying desperately to believe it. Well, it _is_ wrong, but Jack must be right. This is not much different from the people who fuck in the toilet stalls, in the parking lot, in the changing rooms… Right?

Still, Rhys is doing nothing to stop it, and after a while, Jack dares to give him a soft squeeze and one long stroke. Rhys’ knees buckle and he almost falls, throwing his head back again.

“C’mon, kitten…” Jack purrs into his ear. “You know you want it.”

Oh yes, Rhys knows. And all his moral barriers fall one by one as the blood rushes from his brain into his dick.

This is wrong…

But Rhys is horny.

Tentatively, Rhys moves his hips forward an inch, mimicking a thrust into Jack’s fist, and then back into his hips. Jack answers by tightening his grip and rutting against him, setting a lazy rhythm.

“That’s it,” he says into his ear, tongue flicking out briefly to tease his lobe.

“This is s-so wrong...” the younger boy moans. “Y-you’re bad influence on m-me...”

“You like it,” Jack laughs. Then he tugs at Rhys’ hair, turning his head to the side to capture his lips again. It’s messy and uncomfortable at that angle, but neither of them seems to be able to break the kiss.

Jack’s hand speeds up and Rhys starts nearing his finish, whimpering against the older boy’s mouth. His hips stutter in their desperate pace, chasing pleasure, and he’s close, _so close._ And then Jack starts talking again.

“You’re gorgeous, Rhys. I can’t fucking take my eyes off you. You look so good falling apart under my hand. Are you gonna cum for me? Are you gonna cum while I jerk you off in the middle of a crowd?”

Rhys bites his lip to stifle a cry but the sound tears out of his mouth anyway. He moans lewdly as he spills in Jack’s hand, that keeps stroking him through his orgasm until he twitches away, spent and sensitive.

The boy doesn’t have the mind to be mad at Jack when he wipes his hand clean on the fabric of his jeans before grabbing hold of his hips and rutting against his ass. He lets his head rest on Jack’s shoulder again, listening to his panted curses, lips smacking whenever he licks them.

Jack tenses up and groans quietly, holding Rhys’ hips flush with his while he comes down from his orgasm. Rhys blushes, painfully aware of the cum stain cooling on his crotch and a similar stain on Jack’s.

Probably also aware of their state, the older boy gently tugs at his hand, leading Rhys through the crowd to the exit. Neither of them cares about missing the rest of the concert as they basically run through the well-lit corridors and outside to the dark car park.

They laugh and giggle like guilty kids, making silly faces at the security cameras around them. Soon though, the cold air outside starts seeping into their sweat-covered skin and they need to head home.

Not wearing anything but a thin t-shirt and wet pants, Rhys starts shivering, his teeth clicking loudly, so Jack wraps his arm around his shoulders and pulls him closer. It’s the gesture that makes Rhys feel warm rather than the actual heat of Jack’s body.

Fortunately, they don’t live very far from the concert hall. Rhys lives in an apartment in the city centre with his mom and Jack in an old, small house a mile or so further. They stop by the entrance to the apartment building and share a silent moment, illuminated by a neon sign from a nearby club and a faulty, flickering street light.

Rhys is the first one to speak up, subconsciously stepping closer to Jack while he does so. “Uhm, so, see you at school on Monday?” he asks, biting his lip.

“Or I can come over tomorrow,” Jack suggests with a wink.

“Mom will be on the conference until Tuesday, so the house is empty,” Rhys reminds, suppressing a grin.

“Oh, then I should definitely come, make sure you aren’t scared or anything,” Jack eats his bait, grinning openly.

“Hmm,” Rhys hums, putting a finger on his chin. “You know, I am a little scared of being alone now...”

The older boy laughs incredulously, shaking his head. “Tempting offer, Pumpkin, really, but gran would kill me if I didn’t show up.”

“Oh,” Rhys scowls at the mention of the vile old woman that is Jack’s grandmother. His smile disappears.

“See you tomorrow?” Jack asks, using one finger to tug Rhys’ lips up until he giggles.

“Okay. I’ll make something for lunch and get popcorn, and we can watch the new movie that I... legally obtained.”

“Sure,” Jack agrees, a smaller smile settling on his face. He leans down and kisses Rhys again, slow and deep. He cups his face and holds him in place while he explores his mouth as if trying to learn every single detail.

When they finally part, Rhys is panting, eyes blown wide.

Jack smirks. “Good night, Cupcake,” he whispers and walks out into the night. As he goes, Rhys hears him muttering under his breath, something about his favourite jeans being ruined and he laughs. It’s typical Jack.

His Jack now.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ElfWriting) and [Tumblr](https://lostelfwriting.tumblr.com/).


End file.
